The Hunger
by DreamALittleBigger
Summary: "Don't talk to me about dangerous. You're the guy that threw himself at Sergej after a fight with about forty werwulfen." "For you."
1. Chapter 1: Bloodhunger

**This takes place about two weeks after Betrayals ends.**

**DISCLAIMER: Strange Angels Series belongs to Lili St Crow.**

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**Chapter 1: Blood hunger**

"Dru! Work it, girl!" I gasped as my hand connected with Graves's face and he went flying back, his jaw snapping with a scary sound. It was yet another svetochatraining session. Only this time, they invited Graves to beat me to a pulp for a change. Or vice versa. I told them it was a bad idea.

"Holy crap!" I quickly ran over to him and knelt down. I winced when I saw a huge purple bruise blooming on his cheekbone. "I'm sorry." He gave me a little pained smile and winced. I touched the bruise gingerly.

Dibs was standing in the corner and now he ran over. He none-too-gently examined Graves's face and sent him to the medic. He gave me an annoying look. "Dru, honey, have you ever thought that maybe beating up your friends isn't the best way to train?"

I sighed at him. "Dibs, honey," I mimicked his overly sweet voice. "Right now this is the only way to train. Since all the teachers are 'busy' and 'unprepared'." I made air quotes around the words. Ever since I arrived at the main Schola they (meaning the djamphir in charge) were all over the place trying to figure out the best ways to train me. They were also trying to find teachers that are strict enough, good enough, and willing enough to train a new svetocha.

"Yeah, about that…" Dibs looked over my shoulder. He had a weird look on his face. Something between disgust and admiration. I turned around and was hit in the face by a spicy smell of apple pies baking.

"Christophe." I studied the djamphir in front of me. He was pretty tall, slimly built, and roguishly handsome. The (I assumed) natural highlights in his expensively cut hair seemed to shift and his cold, winter-blue eyes stared right at me.

"Hello, milna. How have you been?" I breathed in the apple pie smell and shook my head.

"Fine." I said shortly. I pointedly didn't ask him how he'd been. There was no point in wasting my breath. I'd just get another vague, duck-and-cover answer. "You're finally back. What's the deal?" I asked because he always showed up for a reason. And those reasons tended to be bad.

"I'm your new mentor. Aren't you glad?" There was a moment of complete silence as I stared at him in shock.

"What?" I hissed. I mean, I was actually a little glad. He was probably the best one for the job. And I guess I'm kind of…close to him. But he tended to have a very mysterious style of teaching.

"I can just tell you're thrilled." That sly smile again. The smile of someone who either knew too much or too little, but, in either case, didn't care. That smile brought out the coldness in his eyes and I could just see a hint of fang beneath his lips.

I was distracted by a sweet smell cloying the air. It was a little too sweet, but had a certain appeal to it. Like milk that was too sugary but warm enough for you to enjoy it. The air smelled very good all of a sudden and I could feel a little place in the back of my throat being tickled. The blood hunger.

Christophe probably saw something in my face change because he suddenly frowned. "Dru – ." He took a deep breath of air and his eyes widened as he smelled the blood too. He quickly looked around and pointed at a boy standing in the corner of the room. He was a tall, lanky kid with big brown hair and doe-like eyes. He'd just come in bleeding, probably on his way to the medic. Probably a fight gone wrong. Kids fight around here a lot. It's a part of the training. But right now that kid was covered in blood.

And he'd suddenly smelled really good.

"You." Christophe pointed at the kid. "Get out of here. Now." The kid took a step in my direction. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off with a glare from Christophe. He just stood there confused.

"Christophe…" I gasped. I could feel my canines lengthening as the aspect flooded me. My muscles were shaking as I locked my knees and resisted the blood hunger. Christophe took a step forward and put his arms around me, hugging me tight.

"Sh." He whispered. I took in a long breath and burrowed my face in the space between his shoulder and collarbone. The smell of apple pies and spices hit me and drowned out everything else. But the blood hunger was still there. Christophe's face was in my hair and I knew he was resisting it too. But he was doing a far better job. "Get. OUT." He growled and I could feel the air move as the bleeding kid ran out of the room. The heat coming off of Christophe was making me feel hot and cold at the same time. I felt my fangs retreated as the aspect disappeared and I fell to my knees, shaking.

"Shhh." Christophe was on the floor beside me, stroking my hair and muttering comforting words. "It's okay, Dru. Everything will be okay. I promise, kochana."

"Dru?" Graves's scared voice carried out over the silence. "Oh shit, Dru. What just happened?"

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**DreamALittleBigger.**


	2. Chapter 2: Mother

**In this chapter we will hear the words "moj maly ptaszku". translation - my little bird.**

**DISCLAIMER: Strange Angels belongs to Lili St Crow.**

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**Chapter 2: Mother**

"Miss Anderson, we understand that what happened was not your fault and we're grateful to…," the teacher glanced at Christophe, "Mr. Reynard for not letting you give in to your bloodhunger, but would you please consider – "

"No." I regarded him with a cool gaze. "I will not 'talk about this' with Anna. Is that clear?"

The teacher (Mr. Dond, I think) gulped. The guy knew not to mess with a svetocha. "Miss Anderson – "

"Is that clear?" I enunciated each word, glaring at him. He was one of those broken teachers that hated getting in trouble and were deathly afraid of their students.

"Yes, Miss Anderson. You may go." I decided not to point out that before dismissing me; he had acted as if I was the teacher. I promptly rose and turned on my heel, heading out the door. I marched to my room.

Christophe fell into step beside me and immediately every single person in the hall seemed to get super glued to the walls. Rumors of Christophe's betrayal were blowing around like dust devils. We walked in silence for a little while, me quietly fuming and Christophe just waiting me out like he always did. That never-ending patience of his.

"Why not Anna?" the question startled me and I stopped. Wasn't it obvious?

"She's a…" I trailed off, but he got the point. He gave me a wry smile and raised an eyebrow.

"Aren't they always?" he resumed walking and I followed. The bell rang and the kids rushed to classes but I didn't really care. I wouldn't get in trouble anyway. "Not your mother, though." I caught my breath, looking at his profile with anticipation.

No one around here ever talked about my mother. They ducked my questions and Anna just smiled and shook her head. I thought this place was going to be more than that.

"She was bright, intelligent, funny, beautiful…Never turned down a request for help. And she got a lot of them. She worked as hard as she could and then harder. Always patient and attentive. Never gave up; always tried again and again. She seemed to work all the time, try to be a better svetocha, and a better person as well. She always found some way to weasel into your heart and keep it warm." Christophe smiled a soft, curling smile and shook his head. "She was my best friend."

I was silent. "You told me…that she kept you in the light." I didn't make it a question. I didn't even expect him to confirm it. But he did, nodding.

"My father taught me many terrible things. He showed me the best way to bring down a human from behind, hunt down a werwulf, kill a Kouroi…you name it. But when I was with your mother, she took away all those memories. She taught me to make hot chocolate and do research in the library, and many other wonderful things. She showed me that the light is hard to obtain and even harder to keep, but it's worth it. It was worth it because she was there. And then she was gone."

"Where did she go?" I couldn't help asking after he fell silent.

"She fell in love."

"Oh." I thought about my mother, beautiful and in love, willing to give up all that hard work for her beloved, and I felt proud to be her daughter. I remembered the picture in Dad's billfold, the silver locket – my hand automatically went up to my throat – and with the good memories came the bad ones.

That night she died.

Murdered by Sergej.

I love you, baby. I love you so much.

We're going to play the game, Dru.

I shuddered and stopped. We had arrived at my door. I opened it, about to walk inside and Christophe turned to walk away. I stopped suddenly.

"Why do they think you betrayed her?" I sounded incredibly alone as I said it. Christophe stopped, his winter blue eyes meeting mine and I shivered.

"I'm Sergej's son. I was close to her. I knew that your mother was pregnant. She lied that it was a miscarriage, though." I stared at him, astonished. He knew? His eyes darkened just for a fraction of a second, then became clear again. "You have to believe me, Dru. I would never, ever do that." His voice sounded rough. "Do you believe me?"

I nodded mutely.

"Good night, moj maly ptaszku." He disappeared.

"Good night." I whispered.

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**Hugs and butterfly kisses,**

**DreamALittleBigger.**


	3. Chapter 3: A Walk in the Park

**DISCLAIMER: Strange Angels belong to Lili St Crow.**

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**Chapter 3: A Walk in the Park**

"Dru." I raised my head from one of the leather-bound books that the librarian thoughtfully provided me with. The one I was reading currently was a horribly-written but useful text on the relationship between werwulfen and suckers. Pretty.

The light from a pair of green eyes pierced the shadows of the doorway. I had the shutters drawn a fraction so I could see, but the rest of the room was shrouded in darkness. It was eleven in the morning. The Schola slept.

I smiled at Graves, tucking a piece of paper into the book as a bookmark. I motioned for him to walk over to me. I pushed the shutters back a little more and peered out the window. The light danced around me and slowly revealed Graves, shrouded in his ever-present cloak and smiling that heart-stopper smile that always made me warm all over. "Not sleeping, I see." I glanced at him again. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He took his time pulling up a chair and settling next to me. Then he finally decided to get up, threw the shutters open all the way and faced me with a puppy look on his face. "I've got an idea."

I gave a little laugh. "If I didn't know any better I would have said that your idea is going to be illegal, but since I do know better I …" I trailed off, noticing his facial expression changing from begging to guilty. I sighed and gave him a you have got to be kidding me look. But I'd wanted to show the Schola that I wasn't just one of their little pets, didn't I? Breaking the rules would be the good way to go. "Okay, what do you want to do?"

He gave me a surprised look, changed it to disbelieving and finally settled on satisfied.

"It's awesome, but there's one thing." His eyes sparkled as he said, "Christophe's going to be mad."

I looked out over the Schola. This one was way bigger and newer looking than the previous one, sprawling out over acres of buildings and training grounds. More people lived here. More people mean more guards. More guards mean trouble.

"If we get caught," I started, and then shook my head. "Scratch that. When we get caught, I'm blaming you."

Graves rolled his eyes at me. He knew that I was complaining just for show. I would never miss this. I loved this too much. Adrenalin, rebellion, and getting Christophe pissed off, all in a nice package wrapped with a bow.

"Okay," Graves muttered, looking all professional as he checked the position of the sun and ran his gaze over the grounds. His hair was mussed by the wind and his eyes were glowing even through the bright sunlight. "They should show up right about…here." He pointed at the three figures crouching by the western wall. "Let's go." And before I could say anything, he jumped off the roof.

I grinded my teeth and carefully let go of the railing, landing two stories down. I straightened up the leaves to make it look like I wasn't there, and then walked over to where Graves was discussing something with the werwulfen. I caught a whiff of a conversation – something about trouble. I rolled back my shoulders and regarded them with a doubtful look. These were the guys?

"Guys, this is Dru." Graves motioned for me to come closer. "This is Chad, Drew, and Bailey." I carefully kept my face blank. Graves saw the amused look in my eye and coughed. "Umm, people call him Speed." I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Why?" He grinned, showing his canines.

"You'll see."

"Time to get going." Chad said. He was a strongly built boy that looked about fifteen, with hazel eyes and dark sideburns. Drew and Bailey, I mean Speed, nodded. Drew looked sixteen and was pretty short. He had long-ish blond hair and a scar running down his collarbone. Speed was a tall, wire think youth whose jet black hair was sticking upright.

The boys walked over to the lowest part of the wall and quickly jumped over. Graves stayed to make sure I made it, and then jumped over it himself. We were presented with the city of New York.

Cars honked, people cussed, and no one really paid attention to four teenagers hurrying down what was considered one of the busiest street of America. I was multitasking – gawking and trying to keep up with the boys at the same time. Dad took me to a lot of places but he never hunted in New York. Said too many witnesses.

The boys turned down a narrow street, the kind that hoodlums preferred for their gatherings, and walked around all the buildings. They snaked around the buildings, finally coming up to a gigantic park. Graves grinned at me.

"What is this?" I asked, awed.

"This, Dru, is our playground."

Running. My favorite thing in the entire world. Running faster than you could dream, the wind blowing in your back, all noise and worry subsided to the rhythmical, impossibly fast thump of your feet against the uneven forest ground. The seemingly random calling of birds and laughter of werwulfen ringing in your ears.

For those of you who can't do it – it's just like you've dreamed and more.

We finally had to stop. I skidded to a halt, tripping and sending myself flying through the air to land on my knees, skinning them. But I was beyond caring. I hurled and coughed and Graves was next to me, laughing a boyish, wonderful laugh I've never heard him utter.

"That was the best two hours of my life." I muttered, sitting up and smiling at him. He grinned right back and shook his hair.

We decided to risk it and came back to the Schola right away instead of arriving at the park and walking back. We weren't gone for too long, though it felt even shorter. "We are so doing this again." Agreed Chad. He gave me a curious look. "You're not bad."

"The svetocha can keep up." Nodded Speed. He really was fast, arriving here a few seconds ahead of us. It may not seem like much, but when you're going at 60 miles a minute, a few seconds made a huge difference.

"We better get going." Graves got up and surveyed the roof. "You guys go ahead. We'll deal." The boys nodded, flashed me a smile and took off. Graves and I got up to the roof from a different angle. About two minutes later we were standing on the same exact spot as we have two hours ago.

"I'll get to my room alone." I told Graves. He looked spent and making him go all the way to my window was unfair. He gave me a skeptical look.

"I don't know…" he sounded unsure.

"Graves." I raised an eyebrow at him. "I can take care of myself." He chuckled.

"Yeah. I guess you can." We were silent for a few moments. "Um, Dru?" something in his expression made me look up.

"Yeah?" I asked cautiously.

He didn't say anything for a long time.

"Graves? What do you want to ask me?"

"Never mind."

"Are you sure?" I gave him an anxious look.

He sent me a hesitant smile. "Yeah. I'll ask you some other time. We better get to our dorms."

I watched him go mutely.

It didn't take much time to get to my window. It was about one thirty in the afternoon – the middle of the night for the Schola. I slipped inside as quietly as I could, shutting the window behind me and drawing the shutters. My feet whispered on the carpet as I walked over to my bed lamp and turned on the light.

"You had a nice walk, I take it?" I jumped and whirled around, my body already in a fighting stance, my fist flying up to the intruders face.

Warm fingers snapped around my wrist and twisted, deflecting the punch. Cold winter blue eyes pierced the shallow darkness and bored into my own. "Where were you?" he didn't let go.

"Out and around, around and about." I replied, throwing his own words back at him. He hissed and let go of my wrist.

"You have to understand that what you did today was foolish, not to mention dangerous." He started lecturing.

"Graves was with me." I defended.

"Graves wouldn't have been able to do anything if you were attacked by a group of nosferat."

"There are no suckers out in daylight."

"There are traps."

"It's the middle of the day, Christophe. What kind of traps could possibly be out there right now?"

"Dangerous ones." He shot back. He was pacing up and down, his hand hanging loosely by his sides. "You don't know. How could you? How could you know that nosferat work with Kouroi? How could you know that at least one person you saw today would be gone by tomorrow, sucked dry at the very best? How could you know that suckers have many tricks up their sleeves? I've been there, kochana. I've done it. They have Kouroi on their side. How do you think they get prey? Not many people go out during the night. At least, not nearly as many as during the day. And suckers can't come into homes uninvited."

"But it's daylight." I whispered, shocked by his words. Of course he would know. Sergej's son. "Bad things don't happen in daylight." Even I could hear the desperation in my voice.

All at once, Christophe looked as if the weight of the worlds rested on his shoulders. He discarded me with a tired gaze, but I saw something burning in its depth. "Bad things happen all the time."

He stopped, looking at me. We stood like that for some time – him sorrowful and tired, and me sick with realization. Finally, he turned to go.

"Get a good night's sleep today, milna." He muttered. "We've got a long day ahead of us."

The door clicked shut as his last words carried out to me. "Milady Anna does not take kindly to disobedience."

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	4. Chapter 4: Fairytales

DISCLAIMER: Strange Angels belongs to Lili St Crow.

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**Chapter 4: Fairytales**

Christophe showed up as soon as the Waking Bell rang. I barely slept after he left. However, I felt wide awake. I wore jeans and a clean long-sleeved dark blue shirt that brought out my eyes. My hair was behaving for once so I decided not to put it up.

I opened the door and stood there silently, staring at him. He was wearing his usual attire – jeans and a paper thin shirt. He was a little hunched though, his hair was ruffled and his eyes looked tired. It was breakfast time so it was pretty empty in the hall. A dark-haired youth hurried past us and disappeared around the corner.

"Let's go." Christophe turned around and started walking to the west side of the Schola. I mutely shut my door and caught up with him. We walked in silence for a few moments. He was navigating the building easily, barely glancing at me. Finally, I couldn't take it.

"Where are we going?" my voice sounded eerie in the hollow emptiness of the hallway. Christophe stopped in front of a heavy wooden door decorated with golden flowers on the edges. He knocked, opened it and motioned for me to walk in.

I stepped inside and was faced with a plain but artfully furnished office. A huge oak desk was in the middle of the room. Wide windows provided a view into the courtyard. A velvet draped couch was in the corner and a similar chair was positioned behind the desk.

Lady Anna sat on the corner of the desk, reading over some papers. She was as pretty as ever, her hair in a perfect bun. She was wearing a summer blue dress that twirled out around her. Fashionable boots covered her feet and shins. She was another svetocha like me, only they'd managed to keep her a secret from everyone.

Her bodyguards stood on both sides of the wall behind her. Both of them were strongly built guys that looked about twenty.

Anna looked up when Christophe and I walked in, setting the paper to the side. Her pink lip-glossed lips quirked up. Those wide blue eyes bored holes into mine.

"Dru." Her sweet, chiming voice echoed around the office, making me shiver. Once again I was struck with how fake she seemed. And scary as hell.

I opened my mouth to say something snappy but a look from Christophe cut me off. Instead, all I said was, "Anna." I saw one of the guards shift out of the corner of my eye. Oops. Guess I forgot the 'Milady' part.

"Please take a seat," she motioned graciously. I took one look at the couch and shook my head in decline. It was positioned in way so it would take a few extra seconds to get to the door, or to Anna, for that matter. She shrugged one shoulder in a "suit yourself" fashion.

"Krystof." She called him by his given name. Krystof Gogol. "Good day." Christophe didn't respond. She didn't seem to notice. Her attention was back on me. "Dru, sweetie, would you please explain why you were absent for a time period of two and a half hours this morning?"

"I was taking a walk." I refused to cringe at Anna's steel glare. No one said anything for a few seconds as she got up soundlessly and cocked her head to one side. Tiny fangs slid out and slid back in.

"Krystof?" she turned to him and raised an eyebrow. "You didn't think to accompany Lady Dru on her…walk?" Christophe didn't flinch.

"No." he steadily retuned her challenging stare. "Dru decided to take a walk without my presence."

Another heavy silence as Anna opened her mouth as if to say something but finally decided to keep silent. She walked around the desk and sat down in the posh chair.

"Dru, you have a training session with Krystof right after lunch. Northeast training grounds. I suggest you get there on time. Both of you. Dismissed."

The hallway echoed our footsteps as Christophe led me to the cafeteria. I stopped to look out the window, at the lifeless yellow leaves spiraling slowly to the wet ground. Christophe stopped a few yards ahead.

"Dru," his voice sounded urging, daring. I took a long look at him – at his tousled blond-streaked hair and his bright blue eyes and I realized, not for the first time, how good-looking he was. In a different way than Graves. Graves was warm and soft and supportive. Christophe was fast and hard, and mysterious. They were different. Heat and cold. Black and white. Earth and sky. Fire and ice.

I remembered a poem Dad used to read all the time. It was by Robert Frost. I never really understood it, though I knew it by heart.

_Some say the word will end in fire_

_Some say in ice_

_From what I tasted of desire_

_I hold with those who favor fire_

_But if I had to perish twice_

_I think I know enough of hate_

_To say that for destruction ice_

_Is also great_

_And would suffice_

It was Mom's favorite poem.

"Dru."

"Tell me about my mother." I surprised him, I knew. His eyebrows shot up and he really turned around to look at me.

"What do you want to know?" Now it was my turn to be surprised. He never told me anything straight out.

"Anything you can tell me." His eyes darkened so I hurried to add, "Well, not necessarily everything, just…" I felt lost.

Christophe nodded slowly and walked over to sit at the window I was looking out of. He patted the seat next to him and I lowered myself in it, feeling a sick sort of excitement.

"Elizabeth was a confident, smart young woman. You're a lot like her." I waited, breathless. "The Lefevre line, that's the line of djamphir you and your mother are from, is one of the most fertile svetocha lines, meaning they tend to produce svetocha pretty often."

"Often as in how often?"

"Often as in 100-200 years. That's a lot," he added, seeing my disbelieving look. I motioned for him to go on. "Anyways, every mentor Lizzie had could see that she had a huge potential. And not only svetocha-wise. She was graceful, charming, and beautiful… you name it. She was one of the best in the Order." He fell silent, staring hard at the wall as if that would bring Elizabeth back.

"What happened next?" I asked carefully.

"She met Dwight." And the bitterness in his voice was so apparent, so clear, that I couldn't stop myself from asking what I asked next.

"Did you love her?" As soon as my mouth formed the words, I winced inside.

Christophe gave me a startled look and made a half-choked, half-strangled noise. "No."

He got up suddenly and nodded toward the cafeteria. "You go on. I'll catch up." I said. He gave me another penetrating look and disappeared behind the doors.

I sighed, leaning back against the cool wall and closed my eyes. Memories of fresh baked bread and summer and childhood flooded behind my closed lids. Mommy smiling and brushing my hair, assuring me a looked like a real princess. Daddy wiping my tears away after I fell down the stairs and hurt my knees. Gran teaching me how to make proper toast and then Dad giving me a crash-course in making coffee. Happiness; bliss.

Home.

"He didn't love your mother. She loved him." A melodic voice said. My eyes flew open just in time to see Anna sit down where Christophe had been sitting just a few minutes ago.

"What?"

"Elizabeth was in love with him. That kind of stained her spotless reputation." She continued in a conversational tone. Something about the set of her shoulders, the way her gaze never wavered from my face told me she was telling the truth. "Sweet, dear Lizzie in love with the son of one of the most vicious enemies the Order ever had." Anna smiled a grim smile. "She was stubborn – didn't pursue him but never let him forget what he was to her. She always cried that he never understood her; never truly saw what was behind the façade of sweet smiles and throwing daggers. Said she wanted him to see, truly see the person she was, and not judge by what she did or what her upbringing was – just what was there."

Anna sighed, a seemingly small sound without any significance. "Christophe only saw her as a friend, though. Nothing but a best friend…"

I bit my lip as Anna gave me a sad smile.

"I wish –"

I didn't get to say what I wished because there was an ear-shattering, high, keening noise that all but split my skull apart, and there was Christophe, charging through the blasted cafeteria doors with all hell on his heels.

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**Hugs and butterfly kisses,**

**DreamALittleBigger.**


	5. Chapter 5: Run

DISCLAIMER: Strange Angels belongs to Lili St Crow.

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**Chapter 5: Run**

You know how they say that when you face death, you whole life flashes before your eyes? Yeah, well, I never believed it until then.

I remembered Gran teaching Dad how to bake bread. It was the first and only time I have seen Dad anywhere near an oven. Ever. He was trying to figure out what to do with the sticky, gooey dough-like think stuck to his hands when Gran swept into the kitchen, pulled open a few cabinets and saved the day. Flour and eggs were added, Dad's hands were washed, and it was the tastiest bread I could have imagined.

Christophe was storming through blasted doors, dozens of werwulfs were growling and snapping at his heels and all I could think about was baking bread with Dad and Gran.

I am really going insane.

"Shit." Anna exclaimed, jumping up. "Shitshitshitshitshit."

"Dru." Christophe growled, his eyes shining and fangs flashing as the aspect flooded him. I cut him off.

"Christophe." My voice sounded eerily calm in the chaos. "What the hell did you do?"

Flames leapt at the windows behind him, eating away at the tapestries. Every table and chair was overturned. I caught a glimpse of steel flashing in the lamplight, and then lightless, black liquid splattered on the floor in front of me like some sick, twisted artist threw it at the canvass.

Wait. Black? My brain struggled to understand what that meant, but I suddenly felt a strong arm slide itself around my waist. I startled and the arm tightened. The fresh and yet bloodied smell of Graves enveloped me as he leaned in and whispered, "Dru, honey, we have to go."

And suddenly, I was flying.

About three seconds after we crashed thought the back kitchen doors my brain caught up with everything what has happened so far. And it wasn't good.

I tugged my hand out of Christophe's grasp just as we jumped over the balcony railing. My arms shout out and my knees bended of their own accord, surviving the three stories drop down without as much as a whisper of complaint. Stupid boys don't know how to take the stairs.

The white owl flew by my face and by the tingle in my gums and blur at the edges of my eyes; I could tell the aspect was flooding me. With a burst of inhuman speed, I sprinted after Graves and Christophe into the bushes. And we ran.

I don't know how much time had passed, but by the time we finally stopped the moon was completely out and the stars shone. I dropped to my knees, hurling with elbows pressed close to my sides and my nose running. I coughed a few times, hurled again, and sat back against a tree trunk. All of us just sat there for a few minutes, breathing heavily.

"What the fuck happened out there?" I finally asked through clenched teeth.

"Nosferat." Christophe said grimly.

"I know that." I waved his answer away impatiently. "But why where they there? No. Scratch that. Stupid question. How did they get in?"

"There was a distraction. The lookout guards had to go figure it out. They were gone for mere seconds but mere seconds was all the suckers needed. They got in through the windows and balconies."

I sighed, shaking my head. "They're probably gone now. We should go back." I got up as I said that, brushing whatever dirt I could off of my jeans. The lack of answer made me look up. "What?"

Christophe was staring into the distance. "I can't go back."

"Huh? Why the hell not?"

"Because he'll be jumped and chained within milliseconds." Graves informed me in an emotionless voice. "The distraction," he continued when he saw the question in my eyes "was him fighting a werwulf. Stupid, really. But that's what allowed the attack to happen. Plus, you were this close to being murdered. Now everyone will think that Christophe distracted the guards on purpose because he works with Sergej. As far as they're concerned, that's all the evidence they need."

"Oh shit." I leaned against the trunk. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. This was seriously bad. I knew I could easily go back without Christophe, but then he'd be gone again. The Order would want to know where exactly he is, and he'll be hunted for real this time. Some part of me didn't want that.

I opened my eyes. "Well," my voice sounded coarse. "I guess we should get going then."

"Dru," Christophe started to say but he just shook his head and followed me in the direction opposite of the Schola.

I stopped. "Graves." I said softly. "I would understand."

There was a heavy silence as I had my back to both boys and, without turning, took a step forward. Then he was right there and I had no choice but to stop again.

"I'm with you, Dru. No matter what. It's a promise."

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	6. Chapter 6: Sleep

**DISCLAIMER: Strange Angels belongs to Lili St Crow.**

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**Chapter 6: Sleep**

As soon as we decided that we weren't going to go back to the Schola a new question arose. Where do we go back to?

Christophe took care of that. With "Follow me" thrown over his shoulder, he ventured deeper into the forest. I sincerely hoped that he knew where he was going. There were no paths, no landmarks, no anything. But, somehow, we ended up on the other side with a small village-like town in front of us.

"La Fortuna," Christophe announced. "Spanish immigrant town."

He led us through a complicated maze of alleys and mud-splattered streets. All around us people called out to each other at the market, talked, and went about their daily business. I had a curious feeling of belonging, in a way. These people were not used to strangers – I could tell by some of the hostile glances thrown our way – but they just accepted us. I felt a little guilty. These folks had no idea what they were accepting.

We soon stopped in front of a small two-story house with a miniature garden on the side. Opening the gate (it was unlocked), Christophe let us in.

"What is this place?" Graves asked. He glanced at me, his eyes speaking volumes. I have no effin' clue about why we're here and I don't trust him. I don't like this. But I'm trusting you on this one, honey. If you think we should stick with him, fine. But don't blame me if I say 'I told you so.'

I gave a barely noticeable nod and looked around. A small, stuffy kitchen and living room on the first floor. A bathroom and two bedrooms on the second. There was a door outside, to the other side of the house. I walked out; took in the sight.

We had about two yards of grass before the ground suddenly sloped down to the plains below. Grass was as far as the eye could see. Yellow flowers dotted the ground in some places and I could see silhouettes of pasture animals in the distance. Other than that, we were completely alone on that side of our retreat.

"What do you think?" Christophe came up behind me.

"It's…wow." I sat down on the slightly damp grass. "What is this place?" I repeated Grave's earlier question. This time though, Christophe decided to answer.

"My mother's home."

Dinner (breakfast more like it) was a slightly stale bread and dried fruit and vegetables. We ate slowly with our heads lowered. I wasn't all that hungry but I knew I had to eat. It was a necessity.

"What now?" Graves seemed to ask all the hard questions. He looked at Christophe skeptically. The djamphir returned the stare.

"Now we wait."

"What?" Graves exploded. "We're here because of you, if it weren't for the stupid mistake you made we could have been safe in the Schola!" he took a raged breath. "You expect us to just sit here and wait? Wait for what? For the vampires to come get us?" He gave Christophe a disgusted look and stomped outside.

There was a long silence. Christophe calmly went back to eating while I studied him. "He's right, you know." I said.

Christophe made no response.

I couldn't fall asleep. The darkness kept pressing on me, calling to me, whispering. I turned this way and that, clutching the sheets. Christophe was in the bedroom next door. Graves was outside, keeping watch.

I closed my eyes once again, begging sleep to come. To calm myself I started humming a lullaby Mom used to sing. I remembered her sweet voice, but I was too young to remember the words. I know what it sounds like, coming from her lips. Gran taught me the lyrics.

Sleep, my child

Don't you cry

Sleep, my baby

Don't you ever say goodbye.

Remember the music

Remember the past

Remember what used to be

It will not last.

The sweet, slow melody reminded me of what I lost. Dad, Mom, Gran. It was a bittersweet feeling. I thought of Mom's picture in Dad's billfold. I thought of the writing that I noticed only a few days before he was gone. Don't cry because it's over; smile because it happened.

I opened my eyes, tears sliding down my cheeks. Then he was there, wiping away the tears and murmuring how everything will change for the better.

"How do you know?" my voice was barely audible.

He kissed my lips gently once, then a second time.

"Because I won't let it be any other way, Dru."

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	7. Chapter 7: Fight

**DISCLAIMER: Strange Angels belongs to Lili St Crow.**

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**Chapter 7: Fight**

I woke up to the loud screeching of roosters. For a single moment I thought I was back at Gan's house, getting up at an ungodly hour to help feed the chickens and scrub the floors. Then I blinked a few times and memories came flooding back. I smiled faintly, then got up and put on my hoodie along with jeans. I carefully tiptoed to the kitchen.

The boys were screaming at each other.

"How can you do this to her?" Graved was yelling from the corner next to the window. That statement was followed by a long stream of dirty profanity. He had his hands braced on the countertop, his knuckles turning white with the pressure. Christophe was watching him with an angry expression on his face from the doorway to the back of the house.

"Do what?" he shouted back when Graves took a breath. "Keep her safe? Not let Sergej get her? Do everything to make sure she lives?" he gave a disgusted snort. "You don't know a shit about anything, dogboy. You grew up as a civilian. No studying or fighting is ever going to change that!"

Without knowing it, I pressed myself up against the wall of the stairs, watching the disaster unfold below. Before I knew what was happening, Graves lurched himself at Christophe, his shoulders shuddering and his teeth suddenly looking blunt and too sharp for comfort. He let out a growl like crumbling metal and Christophe answered with a keener snarl. The next few seconds were a blur and the only thing I could make out was a spray of blood hitting the stairs.

"Enough!" I snapped louder than I ever had. I could feel the anger come over me, urging the aspect. I felt fangs in my mouth and the world suddenly had a whole lot more focus. Snap out of it! I told myself. I knew that if I let into my anger and hurled myself at them with the notion of stopping the fight, the fight itself will turn into a bloodbath.

I took a deep breath, willing myself to relax. I slowly walked down the stairs, glaring at the boys. "Graves." My voice was like stone. "Christophe. Get off of each other now. Am I clear?"

"Stay out of it, kochana." Christophe growled at me. His eyes were a piercingly blue color, pinning me down with their intensity.

"I said get off of each other. Am. I. Clear?" I clutched my fists, my fingernails biting into my palms. There was a heartbeat of silence, the air almost unbearably heavy with tension.

Graves nodded curtly. "Crystal."

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	8. Chapter 8: Love, Lizzie

**DISCLAIMER: Strange Angels belongs to Lili St Crow.**

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**Chapter 8: Love, Lizzie**

"You don't have to treat us like children." Christophe said in a low voice from behind me. I had stormed out after their scuffle and was sitting on a thick branch of a tree that was growing about half a mile from the house. It painfully reminded me of the picture of my house – burnt branching holding a body-shaped thing, the front steps scorched. I closed my eyes, willing the image away. "And you shouldn't leave the house like that. It's dangerous."

"I treat you like children because you act like them." I didn't turn around. "And don't talk to me about dangerous. You're the guy that threw himself at Sergej after a fight with about forty werwulfen."

"For you."

I fought back the blush rising in my cheeks. It always threw me off when he did that – when he was blankly honest. It was a little annoying, really. The way he either cut straight to the truth and nothing but the truth, or taunted me with hints without revealing anything useful.

The silence seemed to drag on for so long that I almost thought he had gone. However, the spicy scent of apple pie wafted around me, as if trying to chase the thought from my mind. After what seemed like forever, I saw him place himself on the other side of the trunk, directly across from me.

"Don't say that." I finally whispered. A part of me wanted to just let it go, but I knew deep down that I had to face the issue now. "Please."

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Don't say what?"

"'For you'." I quoted, trying not to shrink back from his unwavering gaze.

"Why shouldn't I say that?"

"You're committing yourself to me."

"It's my choice."

Another silence. I ripped off a piece of the bark, playing around with it, breaking it. The sun was high up in the sky now, hanging right above us. Thankfully the tree's canopy-like leaves shielded us from the rays.

"I want you to know something, Dru." Christophe said at last. He swung around the tree trunk, sitting himself down beside me. He brushed a strand of hair away from my face, his hand lingering a little longer than necessary. "No matter what happens, no matter where we are or what we're doing, I want you to remember that I will never betray the Order. Ever. Do you understand?"

"Why?" I asked, struggling through the sudden effort of breathing. He was just so close.

"What do you mean?" his brow furrowed in confusion, his brilliant eyes never leaving my face.

"Why wouldn't you betray the Order? They seem to think you would have no trouble doing it."

"Because your mother was a part of it." The statement was blunt. He started getting up; obviously leaving, but I grabbed his hand. He looked down at me, puzzled, and I tugged, letting him know what I wanted him to do. He tried to pull away but I held tight.

"I barely know anything about her." I whispered brokenly. Pity appeared in his eyes, and something else. He glanced at the house quickly, then back at me, obviously deciding what to do. He sat down.

"Elizabeth was twenty eight when she decided to leave the Order and marry Dwight. She always wanted a fairy tale wedding, but there was none of that. They said their vows in Saint Pete's Monastery. Don't ask me where it is." He warned as I began to open my mouth. "She came to see me in the morning. Talked about what she expected the Order to be like when she left. She was very dedicated to her work. Very loyal. She asked me to promise to do everything I can to make sure it survived. I thought that sounded very final, but I agreed. Then she left. I never saw her again."

His voice sounded very monotone, as if he were just describing something that happened to someone else; as if he had no part in the ordeal.

"You said she lied about being pregnant." He confirmed that statement with a nod. "How could she, if you never saw her again?"

"She wrote me letters. Seven throughout the course of seven years and one the day she died."

_Christophe,_

_I can't believe it. I'm a wife! The excitement had worn off a little now – duties replace it. Dwight is as wonderful as I always told you he was. He treats me with every respect imaginable. I have taken to improving his hunting skills nowadays. We go out together now and then. We eliminated a dreadful nest of blood vipers the other day. Nasty creatures, if you know what I mean. I had to put our clothes though the washer three times to get them to look halfway clean._

_Look at me, babbling away about my tiny little life. I'll bet it's nowhere as exciting as yours, eh? What did you get into now? A zombie chase? Poltergeist invasion? The Order must be freaking out, whatever it is. You promised to stay safe, remember?_

_Oh, this pleasantries thing isn't working for me. The truth is, I miss you, Chris. I miss my best friend. I miss the person I can talk to about anything and not feel the need to make it sound good. I miss the person who can make me feel happy and optimistic with only nine words. I miss your presence, darling._

_I hope you're doing well. Pass my regards to Richard and Jeanie._

_Always missing you,_

_Lizzie_

_August 11, 1992_

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_My darling Christophe,_

_Merry Christmas! And Happy New Year's! Goodness, how on Earth am I supposed to get the entire house decorated now is beyond me. I really should stop procrastinating that much._

_This is going to be an extremely short letter, and for that I apologize. It is Christmas season, after all._

_I have news for you, my friend. I am pregnant. You couldn't imagine my surprise when I found out. Dwight is still in shock. It's a marvelous thing, wouldn't you say? I'll be a mother! We're thinking of naming the child Christopher. Or maybe Colin?_

_Tell me what you think. I really do miss you. I wish you were here to share our joy._

_Love,_

_Lizzie_

_December 15, 1993_

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There were a few others like that. I leafed through them, reading every word, memorizing every syllable. Mother mentioned the miscarriage once, sadness clearly shining though the words. It seemed so believable.

Then I saw the last letter and my heart started to break all over again.

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_Christophe,_

_I hope this finds you well, but I don't have much time to spend on it. I have just learned of a terrible thing. I can't tell you anything, but I ask you again to keep your promise. Keep the Order safe._

_I think this is the last time I'll get to say this, Christophe._

_I love you, my best friend._

_Lizzie_

_PS Save her._

_January 9, 1999_

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	9. Chapter 9: Fine and Other

DISCLAIMER: Strange Angels belongs to Lili St Crow.

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**Chapter 9: "Fine" and Other 4-Letter Words That Start With F**

The thick ropes dug into Christophe's wrists, his shirt was torn from the struggle. A long bloody gash ran down his arm, the scarlet liquid dripping slowly to the floor of the van. His eyes were set, determined. Graves sat beside him, unconscious. His hands were likewise bound and an ugly bruise was beginning to take shape under his left eye. Neither of them was spared.

But the Council's lapdogs didn't dare put a finger on me, the svetocha. Precious.

The word seemed dirty.

"Let them go." I snarled at the guard, my eyes daring him to argue. He slashed the rope on Graves's wrists and he almost tumbled to the ground, awake now. "Both of them." The guard didn't budge this time.

I fought to keep control, to not let the anger take me over. Christophe shook his head slightly. Don't bother. But they had no right to do this.

"I want to see Anna." The guard flinched, finally showing a sign of fear. That was good. He should be afraid.

"Milady…" he started to say, but I glared.

"Now." My voice was like death. I winced inside, shocked at myself. Why did I sound like that? Why was I so angry?

But I knew the answer to that, didn't I? The memory was all too fresh.

"No need, Dru." Anna was leaning against the doorframe, her makeup perfectly done, her hair pinned up. She wore a deep blue gown and black stiletto heels, gracefully poised, watching me. "Leave us." This was directed to the guards. The door was softly shut as they practically sprinted out of the room.

"Bitch." Graves commented, in an almost friendly tone. Like The sky is blue or Vampires drink blood. His eyes never left Anna's face.

She shrugged one shoulder, brushing a curl out of her face. "You were picked up at a location eleven point four miles from the Schola Prima, after being away for two days and leaving without any permission whatsoever." This was directed at me. "However, you were unsuspectingly dragged away by Sergej's son, without any idea where you're going or why you're going there. It is presumed that Krystof had you and the loup-garou convinced that you were running away from danger, and not toward it. Reynard is accused of kidnapping a svetocha and leading away a loup-garou. His trial is tomorrow at dawn. Milady Dru is not to attend, seeing as she is too tired and confused. Is everything clear?"

A deadly silence hung in the room as I struggled to understand what she was saying. Anger rose in me again, but it was subdued by Christophe's quiet voice.

"And here I thought you couldn't sink any lower." His voice was flat, but his eyes spoke volumes. Anna almost flinched; her eyes narrowed.

"You're the son of a murdered, Reynard. If anything, you are the perfect definition for the word "low". And you, m'dear," she turned to me, "should be careful with him. He likes pretty things. Pretty, vulnerable things…" the last part was as quiet as a whisper, some undefined emotion flicking through her eyes. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone.

She glided to the door, slipping through without a single glance back. "Take her to her room."

Graves watched me silently as I paced back and forth in my room, my brain scrambling for answers.

"How can she? Just because she's a svetocha doesn't mean she can disregard the law. She has no right!" my voice faltered for a second, and I faced Graves straight on. "Does she?"

"She's svetocha."

"It's not fair!" I whispered. Graves was up in a flash, his arms around me as he rocked me back and forth. I shuddered, leaning back to look at him.

Black hair fell around his face; the bruise under his eye was already starting to heal, fading away. His eyes blazed an emerald fire and he smelled like cigarettes and boy. Fighting through that was a metallic tang of blood.

"Life isn't fair, babe." His breath made my skin all tingly and he leaned closer yet. "But I meant what I said that night; I won't let anything happen to you. I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy."

I nodded breathlessly. I wanted to thank him, tell him I was sorry for getting him turned. Sorry for endangering him. Sorry for ruining his life. But the words were stuck in my throat as he slowly pressed his lips to mine. Once, twice. My mind was clouded; the only things I felt were his lips on mine and the singing voice from my memories.

I was the first to pull away, stepping back. I murmured something about having to use the bathroom and stumbled in there, locking the door behind me. I turned the faucet to full power, the noise drowning out everything else.

I sank down to my knees and sobbed, the tears searing scars into my cheeks.

I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy. I knew he meant it. He always did. But how could I tell him?

Happy.

The word had no meaning anymore.

I got up, forcing myself to turn off the running water and look in the mirror. With the water no longer splashing against the sink, there was nothing else to keep the thoughts at bay.

And then it got so quiet, you could hear my heart break.

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	10. Chapter 10: Forever

**This is the last chapter.**

**I thank you all for reading, for sticking with me. I know for a fact that some of you will be disappointed by the ending. But every end is a new beginning, don't forget that. The best advice I can give you?**

**Read between the lines.**

**DISCLAIMER: Strange Angles belongs to Lili St Crow.**

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_To my friends_

_To my family_

_To my readers_

_And to anyone who has ever felt alone_

**Chapter 10: Forever**

My bare feet made no sound on the cold stone floor. My hair was a mess of black curls, I was wearing blue pajama bottoms that were too long and a green deep tank top that only reached down to my belly button, and I was completely freezing my ass off. I didn't care.

A clatter pierced the air around me and I veered to the right, acting on an instinct. Five second and a muted curse later, someone rounded the corner where I was standing. I didn't slow down, reaching my hand out and grabbing the set of keys that dangled right in front of me. Moments later, I was gone.

He seemed to be asleep, his bare chest rising and falling unevenly. He sat on a thin mattress, no better than the one that Ash was given. Ash. The name sent an arrow of pain through my chest. They had forbidden me to go anywhere near him from the first day we've arrived here. When I'd tried to disobey, they fired a silver bullet in his general direction. He wasn't hurt, but the point was clear.

I shook my head, disgusted with myself. Forbidden me? They've forbidden me to see Ash? They've forbidden me to interact with anyone besides Graves? They've forbidden me to see Christophe? No one forbids Dru Anderson to do anything.

I sank to my knees in front of him, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. The moment my hands came into contact with his skin, his eyes fluttered open, his gaze still and unflinching and so blue, it hurt.

"You shouldn't be here." I watched his lips move as he whispered the words and it took me a while to figure out what he'd just said. Tearing my eyes away from his mouth, I gave him a steely gaze of my own.

"I shouldn't, yet I am here, Christophe. And there's nothing you can do about it. How does that feel?" He gave me a faint smile that disappeared as soon as it came. He reached out with his hand, tracing the line of my jaw, then my lips. I let him, mesmerized by the touch. He stopped then, and withdrew with a shudder.

"Get out of here," he hissed, eyes glowing. "If they catch you, they won't care if you're svetocha. They'll use you to hurt me, knowing that there's nothing they can do to you." Defeated. That's how he sounded. Defeated. And sad.

"Use you against me? Is that what they'll do? Use you against me? Because they have nothing to hurt me with? I can't believe you! You're just so…" He raised an eyebrow, asking me to continue. "Wrong! You're just so wrong!" I leaned against the wall, letting my hair fall in my face. And then, so softly only a djamphir might hear, "They can hurt me. They have you."

Shocked silence. Tears slowly dripped from my eyelashes and I felt him breathing right next to me, the sound comforting in ways it shouldn't have been. "Don't cry, kochana. I love you. Don't cry."

And then he held me and kissed my hair, and told me everything in the world I ever wanted to hear.

Twenty Years Later

There she was. A beautiful girl with long hair the color of midnight, falling in loose curls around her slim frame. Her electric blue eyes – eyes the color of the sky on a cold winter morning – watched the ocean. She wore a long green summer dress and minimal makeup, a focused expression on her face.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" A male voice said from behind her. She turned, watching a tall, strongly build half-Asian boy walk up to her. He was a heart-stopper, with his elegant features and intense green eyes.

"Yeah," she answered hesitantly. "It is."

"You come here often?" he was settling himself next to her, spreading his long legs in front of him.

"Um, yes, I suppose. I come here to think." She was startled with herself. Why did she tell him so much already?

He smiled at her like he understood, though he couldn't possibly have. "What's your name, mystery girl?"

She bit her lip, unsure if she should befriend this handsome stranger. "Felicity."

"Anderson?"

"Yes." She looked surprised. Shocked almost. "How did you know that?"

"Bet your middle name is Elizabeth."

"Who are you?" she was angry now, standing up and looking around. "I haven't seen you before in my life. How do you know all this?"

"I know a lot about you." The boy looked sad for a moment, watching her, those spellbinding eyes glowing green. "I know that your name is Felicity. I know that you're sixteen years old. I know that you're in danger. I know that your parents were in love."

The last bit seemed to come out of nowhere, as he judged her reaction.

"Who are you?"

"Name's Edgar Graves, but I go by Graves. And your name is Felicity Elizabeth Anderson-Reynard." A pause. "They decided to honor her memory then."

She watched him warily as she sat back next to him, realization dawning. "You know my parents. Mom and dad." She paused. "How come I never met you?"

"Know your parents? Everyone knows your parents, babe. They're a legend. A son of a murderer and a daughter of a woman almost too pure to be real. They reformed the Order."

"The Order?"

"Come," he stood up, offering her his hand. "I'll tell you everything on the way. It's not safe to be out after dark. We'll stop by a café around the corner. You like banana latte?"

She looked at his face, then his hand. Slowly, she took it. "Love it."

Something told her it was the right answer.

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